


in all your (purple) glory

by Anonymous



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Angst, Galra Keith, Heavy Angst, Langst, M/M, Self-Sacrifice, i hope this makes you cry lmao, i was listening to florence and the machine lol, idk if you want the klance could be established, klangst, unbetaed, unedited
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-24
Updated: 2017-03-24
Packaged: 2018-10-10 00:39:36
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,296
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10425384
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: “Gotcha. I’m the team sharpshooter; I won’t go down so easily,” he replies, tone chipper and the farthest thing from what he’s feeling right now. But even though Pidge is sixteen now, she’s still his little sister, and he’ll never let her worry about him if he can help it. She snorts, and he allows himself a smile.Keith is taking too long doing his job. Lance goes to check on him.It doesn't end well.





	

“Keith?”

Lance frowns, wiping absentmindedly at the thin cut below his eye, his gaze sweeping the long purple-lit hallways, a now familiar sight from two long years in this intergalactic space war. Dozens of broken Galra robots lie scattered on the ground in disarray, destroyed from something clearly very sharp.

_ Keith’s bayard, _ he thinks, following the path of destruction. The sense that something’s wrong rises up in his throat, sending chills down his spine. His fingers tense around his unformed bayard, blue eyes darting around the area more uneasily. The air here seems oppressive.

It’s silent, and that’s what unnerves Lance the most. They were supposed to be freeing the prisoners of the Galra, but Keith had been taking longer than he should and not responding on the comms. Lance, being the closest by, had volunteered to make it over to Keith’s location.

_ “He hasn’t moved.” _ Pidge’s voice crackles over the speakers, and despite her annoyed tone, Lance hears the undercurrent of worry.  _ “There aren’t any cameras in that area so I can’t hack in and see what’s keeping him.” _ She hesitates, just briefly, but Lance knows her well enough to know she’s concerned.  _ “Take care, Lance.” _

“Gotcha. I’m the team sharpshooter; I won’t go down so easily,” he replies, tone chipper and the farthest thing from what he’s feeling right now. But even though Pidge is sixteen now, she’s still his little sister, and he’ll never let her worry about him if he can help it. She snorts, and he allows himself a smile.

As he continues, he starts when he hears the faintest sound of shouting and metal clanging. His lips thin into a line, and he shifts his bayard into his typical gun. Lance picks up the pace, hurrying towards the noise.

He doesn’t call Keith’s name, not wanting to possibly distract him from a fight. Worry and fear rise up in his throat; whoever Keith’s fighting has to be pretty strong, since they’ve kept  _ Keith _ here for so long…

Lance rounds the corner, ready to shoot whoever he needs to. His finger’s already on the tri -

“K…eith?”

Purple skinned, large catlike ears, golden yellow eyes - and that goddamned mullet, the one that Lance will always recognize. He’s distantly aware of the fact that his bayard clatters to the ground, falling from numb fingers as he takes an unconscious step back. He barely pays attention to Pidge’s worried shouts over the comms.

Because that  _ is _ Keith, and Lance feels the blood drain from his face in terror.

Lance would never show fear towards Keith, half-Galra or not. Because at the end of the day, Keith is still Keith - impulsive, angry, and so, so bright. But this... 

That isn’t Keith.

Those terrifying, solid yellow eyes hold no trace of recognition when Keith turns towards him; Lance doubts he’s even conscious.

A dead Galra soldier (not a robot; that Galra had been living and breathing until something ripped out their throat. Lance swallows the bile in his throat.) lies on the ground only a few feet from Keith. There’s a gun in their limp hand.

There’s a dart stuck in Keith’s neck.

Lance makes the connection just as Keith springs at him, snarling viciously, his speed inhuman. The Blue Paladin only just throws himself out of the way, snapping himself out of his fear-induced petrification and adrenaline lending strength to his limbs.

Instinctively he reaches for the bayard that had fallen to the floor earlier, changing it into his gun and aiming it at Keith, who’s now charging again, in one fluid movement.

He’s about to shoot what would’ve been a perfect shot, right between the eyes, when he remembers:  _ That’s Keith. _ Lance’s eyes widen, and he fumbles, the shot going far too wide and completely missing the charging Galra.

Lance drops to the floor from his awkward sitting position, barely rolling out of the way in time. He can feel Keith’s breath, unnaturally warm, caressing his cheek and fogging up his visor. The wickedly sharp blade of Keith’s curved sword only barely misses his face, sinking into the ground with a faint thud.

_ “Lance! Answer! What’s going on?!” _

“Sorry, Pidge, in a bit of a hairy situation right now.” Lance grits his teeth as he dodges another swing from Keith’s sword. Dammit, he really isn’t suited for close combat. He can do it decently, but definitely nowhere near as well as Keith can.

_ “Agh! We’re going to find you guys,” _ Pidge informs him, sounding agitated, but Lance doesn’t have the luxury of responding, gasping in shock and pain when the blade cuts into his arm.

He feels dizzy as the pain shoots up his arm, blood dripping down the white of his paladin armor in rivulets. It’s not from the pain, or blood loss - it’s from the fact that  _ Keith _ is actually actively trying to hurt him.

It hurts so much.

Lance glances at the wall he’s backed up against, Keith seemingly taking a break, probably smelling victory already.

If Lance lost here, or didn’t get rid of that dart buried in Keith’s neck, he’d go on a rampage. He’d hurt so many more people, and probably the other Paladins as well, who are coming down.

And Keith would hate himself so much for it. He’d break down and train and train and train and break his own body, and that’s what hurts Lance the most.

“Love you guys,” he rasps into the comms, his bayard dropping to the ground, slipping from his slack fingers. He stands straight, eyes meeting Keith’s unfocused ones.

_ “Lance?!” _ Pidge sounds alarmed.

Keith leaps at him, sword gleaming in the dim light of the room.

The next few moments extend into an eternity. Lance lazily notes how shiny and sharp the blade is, the faintly glowing Marmora crest on the hilt of the blade, how professionally Keith’s hand is wrapped around it. He notes the muted shouting in the comms, and when he looks up, the cold and crazed yellow eyes.

The sword breaks through the paladin armor and through his chest and to the thick wall behind him. Pain flares up, and blood, coppery and metallic and slick wells up in his throat, spilling through his open mouth.

In the midst of his agony, Lance remembers what he’s supposed to do, and he reaches up, wrapping shaky fingers around the dart, and pulls it out, letting it drop to the floor. He keeps his arm there in a pseudo-hug.

“I love you, Keith,” he says, with the last of his breath, his hazy blue eyes meeting the  _ purple _ of Keith’s horror filled ones. His other arm trembles as he reaches for Keith’s face, rubbing a thumb gently over his pale cheek, leaving a trail of blood in its wake.

He coughs, half-laughing, as his eyes slip closed, his arms dropping with them with no more energy to support them.

_ I’m sorry, Mama, _ he thinks as the darkness claims him,  _ I guess I won’t be coming home. _

* * *

 

Lance slumps forward on Keith’s blade, falling onto him. Like his strings were cut, Keith crumbles to the ground.

“No,” he whispers hoarsely, tears rising in his eyes and clogging up his throat. Everything is burning and it’s so hard to breathe. “No. No. No.” He repeats it like a mantra, like it’ll bring Lance back, like it’ll excuse the blood,  _ Lance’s _ blood on his face and hands and armor.

Like it’ll deny the fact that he killed Lance with his own hands.

His shoulders shake with sobs he has no more reason to stifle as he wraps his shaking arms around Lance’s already cooling body.

“I’m so sorry,” Keith whimpers into Lance’s soft hair, tears soaking into it. “I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry.”

“I’m so sorry.”

**Author's Note:**

> sorry lmao
> 
> you can scream at me on tumblr @kyasuu


End file.
